Edmund's Magical Adventures
by RunFastFly
Summary: Edmund gets into a lot of trouble at the castle of Cair Paravel, but he hardly ever gets away with anything. Why is it that he always gets caught by Peter, though? (Funny short stories)
1. Princess Tiara

**This story takes place in Narnia, between LWW and Prince Caspian.**

 **Edmund:** 15

 **Peter:** 18

 **Lucy:** 13

 **Susan:** 17

CHAPTER ONE

PRINCESS TIARA

"EDMUND!" a voice yelled. The black-haired boy whirled around to see High King Peter stomping towards him, and Edmund's heart hammered.

Earlier he had played a prank on his brother, and he knew Peter would react this way. But it was so hilarious, Edmund couldn't hold back

a grin at what he had accomplished. He turned around and pushed his way through the servants of Cair Paravel, hoping Peter wouldn't notice -

"EDMUND YOU GET BACK HERE!" the dirty-blond king hollered. Edmund felt his pace quicken as he made his way through the people.

 _Crap,_ Edmund thought to himself. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Peter's bound to get me back anyways._ Still totally worth it.

He stopped and turned to look at Peter, who was gaining on him fast. He looked simply furious. _Oh dear Aslan, he's holding a sword!_ That was Edmund's cue to run.

He took off into a sprint, managing to knock over only a FEW things, (to which he thought he saw Lucy), and ran into a dead end. He whirled around, hoping

Peter was gone, but instead he saw his brother coming towards him very assuredly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a frustrated Lucy walking up to him with her hands on her hips and dirt all over her royal dress.

 _No, not now, Lu,_ he thought grumpily. "I do say, Edmund, you've knocked over all of my-" Lucy began exasperatedly when Edmund had a brilliant idea.

"SHIELD ME!" he said, pushing Lucy in front of him. " _What?_ What are you doing?!" she demanded, struggling as he held her in front of him.

"Ed, I can still see you," Peter said impatiently when he reached them. Lucy tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "He's acting weird again, Peter,

do we need to put him on that prescription-" "NOT THE PRESCRIPTION!" Edmund hollered, cowering down. Lucy looked startled.

"No, I'll take care of him," Peter said with a forced smile. "Go along, Lu." She rolled her eyes and nodded after glaring at Edmund.

"Hey! What's up?" Edmund grinned sheepishly. Peter sighed. His brother was usually a very calm and intelligent person,

but sometimes Edmund would get into these 'moods' where all he wanted to do was scheme. "You have a nice sword there," Edmund complimented

nervously. "Very . . . sharp."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "That's what swords are supposed to be," he said mockingly. Awkward silence. "Come with me now," Peter said, starting to take Edmund

by the hand. "NO!" Edmund yelled, stomping on Peter's foot. "Ed!" Peter exclaimed as Edmund searched for an escape route. _The window!_ he thought instantly.

 _We're just outside the courtyard. If I could just -_ he leaped onto the wall and stumbled for a loose foothold, pulling himself up onto the high window.

 _Dang, the window is rusted shut,_ Edmund thought, ignoring Peter as he tugged at the glass. He looked down and panicked when Peter yelled for Lucy to come back.

"LU! I REALLY DO THINK HE'S GONE MENTAL THIS TIME! GO GET THE PRESCRIPTION! AND THE GUARDS!" Peter shouted.

"No!" Edmund exclaimed, and, thinking fast, smashed the glass. It broke under his fists and he felt a minor pain, but he didn't care, and he darted off the ledge.

" _EDMUND!_ " Peter screamed as the raven-haired boy slipped into soft, cool grass. He grinned to himself and turned, taking off into the woods. No doubt

Peter would lead a search party after him, but that was the best part, wasn't it?

He felt like a sneaky secret agent as he hurried through the thick trees. _Edmund the Just got into trouble again, this time with the High King Peter,_ he

thought, feeling entirely pleased with himself as he ran down the trail, his shoes crunching the leaves underneath him.

Edmund walked on making his own path. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, and he greeted a few trees here and there as he moved along.

He thought no more of anything but pride in himself for coming up with such an amazing prank.

What he did? Well, that's a long story. He had snuck into the throne room, where Peter was supposedly having a meeting.

When Peter came in, Edmund had, extremely carefully, switched Peter's crown off his head and replaced it with a little pink princess tiara. He then very

quietly exited and waited by the door to hear the excellent reactions later on.

"Ahem . . . your majesty . . ." he heard a voice say awkwardly and he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Is something wrong, Lord Octius?" Peter asked, sounding

annoyed.

Edmund had to bite his hand to keep from laughing. "No," said Lord Octius, sounding suspectful. "Nothing at all."

"Then let's begin," Peter said, poising arrogantly. He looked so stupid that Edmund thought he was going to bite his hand off if he stayed there any longer, and he

quickly retreated to his room,

where he cackled his head off to the point where Susan had to come in and check if he had a fever. They constantly did this whenever

he was in one of his 'moods'; they always suspected he got drunk or something, to which he usually replied, " _I'm not drunk! I'm only fifteen!_ "

Ah, yes. The life of Edmund Pevensie.

He seemed to be going on for a long time when he heard a noise off to the left and stopped dead cold in his tracks. The sounds of hooves and voices. _Peter's ALREADY_

 _got a search party? Dumb bloke,_

he thought irritatedly. The hooves' noise got closer and he panicked, searching for something hide in or behind.

 _The trees!_ he thought immediately. He jumped up and hauled himself into a tree, gripping a low one upside down and gritting his teeth.

The hooves were incredibly loud now. It sounded like a stampede or something, causing Edmund to worry.

The hooves stopped directly behind him and he heard some other noise. _Uh oh, that sounds like . . ._ "Edmund?" a voice said.

Peter looked up at the upside-down Edmund with an amused smirk, getting down from his horse. "Hiding, are we?"

"No. I normally give trees hugs whenever I go through the woods," Edmund said sarcastically. "They absolutely love it."

"Get down," Peter scorned, unable to help the slight hint of laughter in his voice. Edmund sighed but did as told, slipping down the trunk.

When he looked up, his jaw nearly fell to the ground. Now Peter looked extremely entertained. " _Really, Pete?!_ "

Before the two boys was a 'search party' large enough to be an army. _Insanity,_ he thought. His brother wanted to embarrass him, didn't he? The army guffawed

at his twitching expression.

"What am I going to do with you?" Edmund hissed. Peter shot up an eyebrow. "Seriously? What are YOU going to do with ME?" he said.

"Yes. Maybe next time you should go for a witch hat instead of a princess tiara," Edmund seethed unhappily. "Speaking of which," Peter declared.

"Eelme, Radhden, take Edmund back to the castle. He has a death sentence to fulfill."

"A WHAT?!" Edmund alarmed. "Only joking," Peter said, grinning. "But please take him to spend the night in the dungeons."

The two guards Eelme and Radhden took Edmund's arms. "You're kidding about that one too, right?" Edmund guessed.

"Nope! Take him away," Peter smirked. "What! You can't do that! I'm a king too, you know!" Edmund complained as the guards dragged him off.

Peter sighed and rubbed his temples. _Strange, strange Edmund._

END OF CHAPTER ONE

 **Did you like it?! Please tell me. Thanks!**


	2. Slime

**Wow! Three reviews already?! That's insane! Thanks so much!**

 **FYI: This chapter is just silly. The next chapter will be a l _o_ t more serious than this.**

CHAPTER TWO

SLIME

"By Jove, Ed, what are you doing up here on the roof?"

Edmund turned around and saw Peter emerging from the shadows, the sunlight catching his golden hair. "Hullo," the younger said, grinning mischievously. It was a

bright, cool autumn morning, with a gentle breeze and dewy grass. It had been

only yesterday since Edmund pulled the tiara prank on Peter, but he was beginning to feel antsy again. He wanted to cause some more _mischief._

Peter followed his raven-haired brother's gaze to the girl standing between two trees, reading a book. "Susan," Peter said immediately. He looked

at his brother skeptically. "What are you doing to her?"

"Nothing!" Edmund said innocently, but his evil little grin gave everything away. "Okay, back to the dungeons, you need to think some more," Peter said,

grabbing the Just King's wrist. "Wait, stop! Haven't you ever wanted to dump a bucket of slime on Susan's head?"

"No," Peter blinked.

"Well this is our chance! So want to help?" Edmund said, ignoring Peter.

"NO," Peter repeated, looking irritated.

"Please?" Edmund begged. "Please please please please, please-"

"Oh, shut up," Peter snapped. "Fine, I'll help you. But if Susan catches us, it's your fault entirely." Edmund smirked deviously and picked up a silver bucket. It

smelled extremely bad. "Where on earth did you get slime?" Peter asked as Edmund handed it to him. "You don't want to know," Edmund replied darkly.

Peter shivered and looked down at Susan, reading calmly as leaves billowed around her. _Only Edmund could be so cruel to disturb her peace._

 _Well, if he follows through with this, she's probably going to disturb_ his _LIFE._

The thought made Peter smile in contentment. "Stay back and hold the slime," Edmund instructed, and then walked over to the edge. "HEY SUSAN!"

he called. The brown-haired beauty looked up from her novel and closed it. "Yes?" she yelled back, standing up from the wet green grass. "CAN YOU

COME HERE?" Edmund shouted. "What for?!" Susan replied. Edmund gave Peter an exasperated look. "COME HERE!" he tried again, more in a demanding tone.

Susan stomped up to the edge of the wall and looked up at him. "What do you need, Eddybear?"

Peter nearly laughed and Edmund shot him a look. "Lucy," he hissed. "She started telling everyone that was my nickname back in Finchley."

"It suits you very well," Peter complimented, grinning. Edmund gave the High King a scorching glare and returned to Susan. "I wanted to talk to you,"

he called down at her. She raised an eyebrow. "Hurry on with it then, Edmund!" she said impatiently. "I'm reading a-"

"NOW," Edmund hissed, taking the bucket from Peter's hands. The High King watched in disbelief as his brother poured out the slime, dumping

the entire bucket on Susan's head. He heard a muffled shriek and the boys exchanged an excited look. "I would run now,"

Peter suggested, turning around. " _EDMUND_! WAIT! IS THAT PETER?!" they heard Susan scream. Edmund peeked over the edge and grinned, and Peter followed.

"Sorry," Peter said hoarsely, looking down at the goop-covered Susan.

His sister went stiff. "Yeah, let's go," the Just King finally agreed, turning around. Susan the Gentle didn't really look all that 'gentle.'

The boys raced down the stairs and searched around. "We need to hide!" Peter said, pulling Edmund.

"YOU, the HIGH KING, want to hide from SUSAN?" his brother scoffed. Peter turned red. " _Yes_ ," he disdainfully admitted. "You know how she gets, Ed."

The boys looked around and heard Susan's voice echo throughout the hall. "PETER, EDMUND! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

" _Why_ do people shout 'where are you'? It's not like we're going to answer," Edmund grumbled. "Come on," Peter said, turning. "We can hide in...

er... the tea room!"

"The TEA ROOM," Edmund repeated. "Well, it's the least likely place she would expect us to go in!" Peter said in exasperation, yanking his brother along.

They scampered through the hall, passing several doors, where people shouted their blessings.

"Here we are," the older king said, opening a specifically engraved birch door.

The younger king turned pink. He had never been to the tea room, except for the time when Lucy dressed him up and forced him to come along.

Bad memories.

Horrible, horrible memories.

"Peter," he whined. "Can't we hide somewhere else? I don't want to be seen in there. I have a reputation."

"Your ' _reputation'_ is being a rebellious idiot, Edmund. Have you not noticed? Now come along, we're already here!" Peter shot back, and they went into the room.

The floor was white marble and there were windows practically everywhere. It was bright and . . . so very girly. Edmund shuddered.

"Where are we supposed to hide?" he asked worriedly, looking at all the colorful flowers and running his hand over the smooth wooden tables as he walked

past. "Maybe behind the plants," Peter suggested. "Princess Eddybear."

"Ha-ha-ha," Edmund said dryly but did as instructed. The boys crouched down behind the horrifyingly pretty flowers, which concealed them quite well.

They were silent for some time, feeling the seconds tick by. Nothing really extraordinary happened, for it was only a few minutes, but to Edmund,

it felt as though they had been waiting there for years, and then years turned into decades, and then decades turned into centuries.

"So how long to we have to watch our pride melt away?" the Just King finally whispered, his patience draining by the moment. He did not want to be in here all

day, let alone _NOW_. "I don't know. We may have to be here for the next few hours until she calms down," the High King replied quietly. "HOURS?" Edmund repeated

incredulously. "I can't wait that long! Our lives are wasting every second we spend in this pathetic place!"

"Really? You used to hide for _days_ back in Finchley," Peter said coldly. "Yes, but we're in a TEA ROOM," Edmund hissed in response.

Peter rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat up. He had to admit, the High King hiding from his sister in a tea room did seem rather wimp-like . . .

"And to think, we've experienced so many battles, and yet the instant Susan yells our names we run and cower in the shadows," Edmund added unhappily. "Yes,"

Peter grunted. "And you're technically ruler of Narnia, the Magnificent, but you-" Edmund continued.

"EDMUND I GET IT," Peter said, resisting the urge to punch his brother. Edmund smirked innocently, but then he remembered he hated hiding too

and his smile dropped. And so the silence continued.

The younger counted how many teacups he saw in his state of boredom. The servants of Cair Paravel often had everything neatly placed, even if something was not

in use, and therefore everything was constantly clean and tidy. The teacups were placed neatly on pure-white napkins and little china plates. They were

all placed in even order, three per table, and in the center of each table was a large teapot. One particular teapot had the picture

of a glowing lion embedded in it, and one could assume that it could only be Aslan.

Suddenly, out of nowhere (before Edmund could point the lion out to Peter), a gaggle of unwelcome ladies burst into the room.

The two boys exchanged a . . . hmm, what's a word for it . . . _concerned_ look. "Pete," Edmund hissed, his voice dangerously low. "There are girls in here."

"Are there?" Peter replied in annoyance. "I would have never noticed." The Just King cuffed his elder brother's shoulder furiously. "We have to get out now,

they'll spot us and think we're lunatics!"

"They already think _you_ ' _re_ a lunatic," Peter responded indifferently. Edmund was about to say something when the doors slammed open, this time to

reveal somebody they did not want to see. "Susan!" one of the ladies squealed with delight. "You wanted to have a meeting with us?"

The brothers were horrified. At least Susan had the decency to clean up; she was in a new elegant dress and her hair had been done, except there was

a glob of slime she had appeared to have missed.

"Yes," Susan said primly. She caught all the women staring. "What?" she snapped, but shook her head and said in a more collected tone, "Is something wrong?"

"Your Highness, your hair," a lady with red hair spoke. "Oh." Susan's cheeks flushed for a moment, and she wiped a strand of hair subconsciously.

"I had an incident this morning with two _buffoons_ ," she said in a refined tone, sitting down at a table as a maid set down a tray of freshly baked

cookies. Edmund's mouth watered at the sight of them.

"Do tell us, Your Highness. Why has this meeting been called?" another lady asked. "Why, I need to refresh myself and discuss those certain buffoons.

My brothers have played a joke on me," Susan answered calmly.

The ladies all gasped, and the maid rolled her eyes as she poured some tea into Susan's teacup. "The kings? Even the High King? Edmund, though, I can understand,

he's the lunatic of the family-" the red-head started.

"See, told you," Peter whispered, elbowing Edmund, who glowered at him.

"They only think _I'm_ the lunatic because they haven't met Lucy when she's eaten too much sugar," he retorted.

Susan picked up her steaming teacup delicately with a gracious nod to the maid and held it with her pinkie up in a lady-like fashion. **(That's a long sentence)** She

took a long, slow sip, and then set it down gently. "They can be quite a handful. Even _Peter_ has a bad side."

Peter mocked an offended look, and Edmund snickered. Luckily the ladies didn't hear them, as they were currently engulfed with Susan.

"They must be horrid. I grew up with sixteen brothers," one of the ladies sympathized. One of the other ladies nearly choked on her cookie. "Sixteen?!"

"Oh, yes. It was not enjoyable," replied the lady. "Your brothers were not irresponsible kings, though, were they?" Susan said curtly.

The lady shook her blond head with a smile.

"I wonder where my own brothers are currently," Susan sighed, clanking her fork against her plate. Edmund and Peter exchanged another look. Peter's

threatening glare clearly told Edmund, _If you make any noise I will murder you in your sleep tonight._

Edmund preferred to be alive.

As the women continued chatting away endlessly, the raven-haired teen noticed a little brown butterfly fluttering his and Peter's direction.

The butterfly was quite ugly as if it did not quite belong in this tea garden, but rather in a basement instead. The creature seemed to sense Edmund's

disapproval and flapped swiftly over to perch on his nose. Edmund tried to hold perfectly still, but his nose began to twitch. It tickled.

He tried shaking his head to make the butterfly move, but it held firm. He made a frustrated noise and downright swatted at it.

Before it flew in the air, he sneezed loudly.

The ladies, startled, dropped all of their teacups with a loud 'CRASH!' to the floor and screamed. Susan bolted upright to her feet. "What in the name of Aslan

was that?!" she yelled. Peter, too scared to be angry with his younger brother, shielded him and pulled him down. Edmund squinted his eyes shut tightly

and they heard the heavy, slightly irritated-sounding footsteps click towards them. They heard her step directly in front of them.

"You two?" she said, sounding surprised but keeping her composure. All the ladies murmured among each other as the two boys raised their heads

sheepishly, sitting upright. They were speechless. The butterfly flittered in the air.

"Thank you, Joe," Susan said sweetly to the butterfly. "You're welcome, Your Highness," replied 'Joe' in a deep voice. The boys gawked.

"Excuse me, I have some business to handle," she said, turning back to the boys. Her gaze rested specifically on Edmund.

 _Uh oh._

 **Thank you again, and please review! :)**


	3. Rebel

**Yes! Chapter Three! :)**

 **This chapter is complex-ish. Let's just say Edmund's screwed XD. This chapter is a little more serious like I said.**

CHAPTER THREE

REBEL

Edmund looked around, slipping on his shoes in the pale moonlight streaming through his window. It was after midnight, and he thought he could surpass the

guards. He didn't tell anyone where he was going, only the griffon Scrawlus, his free ride. Edmund was never allowed out of the palace without some kind of

escort, (ever since the incident where he, ahem, switched Peter's crown with a princess tiara. And 'accidentally' poured slime on his sister's head.) But night time was

the perfect opportunity to take a joyride without Peter or Susan acting suspicious and Lucy wanting to come with him.

He looked around and slipped his sword into his belt just in case. Then he climbed onto his windowsill and perched, the silk curtains billowing in the wind.

"Scrawlus?" he whispered. "Down here, Your Majesty," came the calm reply. Edmund looked down and stepped gently on the soft griffon's back.

Edmund got a thrill every time he broke the rules, and this being the third time in a row, he knew that if he were caught, they would try to pin him down

and force-feed him death poison. (Okay, it wouldn't be THAT drastic, but they would definitely lock him in his room for the next week or so. His siblings took no

chances when it came to Edmund.) The breeze was cool and gentle, and the moon was full and bright. Edmund sucked in a breath. _Beautiful._

"Is there anywhere you are specifically going, Your Highness?" Scrawlus asked good-naturedly. Good ol' Scrawlus. One of the few griffons who trusted Edmund, even

after all this time. "Don't call me 'Your Highness', please," Edmund said quietly.

"Yes, Your Lowness."

"Don't call me THAT!" Edmund nearly guffawed.

Scrawlus took off into the sky, his wings broadening. The raven-haired fifteen-year-old boy whooped for joy

as they flew through the crisp night air. It always felt like you were riding a rocketship when you rode a griffon, especially one as talented and fast as Scrawlus.

" _THIS IS AN AMAZING VIEW!_ " Edmund hollered over the wind. "Indeed, Your Lowness!" Scrawlus replied, soaring over the trees.

Edmund, who was afraid of heights, looked down below at the scenery. He wasn't scared, though. It really was breathtaking; Narnia was wondrous.

* * *

"Your Lowness, it has been an hour. Is it time to return?" Scrawlus asked, beating his wings only a mile above the ground. Edmund looked down at the trees sadly.

"I suppose if we want to get back in time. But can we do this tomorrow?" he asked hopefully. Scrawlus made a noise, as if not wanting to refuse but

not knowing if he should accept. "Your Lowness, High King Peter-" "Aw, who _cares_ what Peter says?" Edmund interrupted. "He's just scared

I'm going to get lost. Ha! As if. I'd like to see him get lost sometimes, or cause a little trouble."

Scrawlus sighed and turned, flapping back to Cair Paravel. "Be silent, my king. If we are caught, this does not only mean trouble for YOU

but also for me," the griffon spoke softly. Edmund swallowed. "Right, of course," he said hoarsely, suddenly feeling selfish. "Thank you, Scrawlus."

A peaceful quiet came after that, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. The cool breeze ruffled his black hair around in a disheveled mess.

 _Even if we are caught, there shouldn't be much evidence,_ he thought. Edmund's hair was like this when he woke up from the night; Susan usually screamed

at him if he didn't straighten it so he quickly learned to thoroughly comb it in the mornings before attending breakfast. Lucy was the same way,

her hair got tangled easily. She had made the mistake once to not let the servants help with her hair. That ended very badly.

The palace came into view, a silent structure in the night, illuminated by the glowing moon. Edmund saw their shadow against the walls.

"I can't believe we've nearly gotten away with it!" he whispered with pride. "We're going to make it!" Edmund felt giddy. He hardly ever got away with anything;

someone always had to come in and spoil his fun. The Just King was acting 'unjustly,' or so they screamed at him whenever he pranked somebody. Edmund could

disagree. The Just King was acting hilarious. "The day has finally come, Scrawlus-"

A sharp arrow whizzing past him silenced him. He swallowed his words.

 _An arrow? Why is there . . . oh no._ " _Scrawlus, they see us_!" he hissed to the griffon, crouching low and burying himself in the feathers.

"I'm aware, Your Lowness!" Scrawlus replied, and Edmund heard shouting and more arrows. Scrawlus dodged each of them easily, but

when the young king looked down, he saw a vast number of guards. _Why are there so many? Do they know it's me? Well, I'm afraid we weren't_

 _exactly being stealthy._

"Shoot it down!" the voices yelled, and more arrows pierced into the night. _Let me guess, Peter knows I escaped and he wants my head on a platter!_

Edmund thought. "FLY DOWN, SCRAWLUS!" Edmund hollered. "I cannot, Your Lowness, they are all aimed at me!" Scrawlus answered, flying from side to side.

"I believe that they think I am a spy!"

"A SPY?! WHY WOULD ANYONE SPY ON CAIR?!" Edmund answered. "AN ARMY WOULD-"

"Shoot them down?" finished the griffon breathlessly, clearly annoyed. Edmund nodded in response. "Either we die, or you have a lot of explaining to do, dear king,"

the griffon said. "I'm not going to get IMPRISONED-" Edmund started. "And I'd rather not die," he finished

quickly, Scrawlus swooping downwards. An arrow struck the griffon, who yelped in pain and faltered. "Scrawlus!" exclaimed Edmund. "Are you alright?!" "I'm fine,

Your Lowness. Your safety is my priority right now!" replied the griffon, continuing downwards.

Edmund clutched for dear life as they dodged through the flurry of arrows.

Almost as soon as they touched the ground, the guards were on them in seconds, pinning them and yelling. Edmund felt hands roughly yanking him.

"HEY! GET OFF!" Edmund yelled, regathering his strength. The guards looked puzzled as the raven-haired boy struggled to his feet.

Their eyes widened in surprise when they saw who it was.

"King Edmund, Your Majesty! I'm sorry, we did not mean to-!"

"It's fine," the fifteen-year-old cut him off simply. He brushed his hand along Scrawlus' side, trying to find where the arrow had struck him.

"What are you doing out here unnotified, King Edmund?" one of the soldiers asked suspiciously.

Edmund hesitated. "I was only going for a ride," he replied slowly, averting his eyes. "A ride, eh?" one of them snarled. "Leave 'im alone, Follic," another one said,

then leaned down. "You know we have to take you to your brother now, though, right?" he muttered. Edmund seemed to pale a bit. "I would like to just

go back to my chambers," he answered. "Your chambers?" Follic barked with laughter. "How are we to know you won't sneak off again?

You were probably off delivering information to a secret enemy."

Edmund flared up, but he kept his temper down as best as he could. "Do you not trust me?" he said coolly, his dark eyes shining mysteriously.

"I . . . I . . ." Follic stuttered. His eyes darted around, as he was caught 'off guard'. **(** **Ha, the horrible puns.)**

His eyes narrowed, realizing his own delay. "Take him to the High King!" he ordered. Two guards grabbed Edmund by the arms in an unfriendly escort

and pulled him towards the grand doors. The hall was dark, with few patrolling. He exchanged a long look with Scrawlus before the doors shut behind him.

"Do we have to tell King Peter we just shot his brother down?" a guard whispered as they dragged the boy off.

* * *

The guardians showed Edmund the throne room. It was lit up by candles and his brother and sisters were in their thrones, sitting up straight. Edmund gave them a

weak smile and Peter looked confused. "You?" he said.

"Me," Edmund confirmed, laughing nervously. Peter narrowed his eyes. "YOU were the spy," he repeated. "I wasn't SPYING," Edmund argued.

"If anyone asks, you're adopted," Peter said.

"I am NOT!" Edmund complained.

"Hmm. It would make sense, though," Susan mused. Peter cracked a smile but quickly changed it to one of seriousness.

"Edmund, what exactly were you doing out at night?" The three looked at him expectantly. "I... um..." Edmund hesitated.

"I was... delivering... cheese..."

His siblings looked at him like he was crazy. "Cheese?" Lucy echoed. "To who?"

"My... friend... that lives in a... cheeseless town..."

"What was this 'cheeseless town' called, Edmund?" asked Peter, looking amused beyond words.

"Um... Cheesetopia."

"So Edmund was delivering cheese to the cheeseless town of Cheesetopia," Susan said. Edmund nodded, smiling nervously. "Peter, he bonked his head,"

Lucy said, giggling uncontrollably.

"Brother, why did you do it?" Peter sighed. "This is the THIRD TIME."

"I couldn't help it!" Edmund quarreled. "I wasn't doing anything _wrong_. Besides, you helped me last time."

"Edmund, for the next two weeks, you are not allowed to leave your room," Peter announced. "And we're putting you back on that prescription."

"You're not my mother!" Edmund argued. "And I'm NOT mental! Do you want the truth?" They all looked at him expectantly, except for Lucy, who was

laughing her head off on the floor.

"I just needed some fresh air," Edmund said. "Really?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "You know, you could have just asked and they'd let you."

"Oh."

Edmund felt awkward.

"But now that isn't an option, is it? You have to stay in your chambers for the next two weeks," Peter smiled grimly. "And if I don't?" Edmund asked.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "If you sneak out of your room?" he repeated. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Edmund."

"I would."

"EDMUND!"

 **Wow, that was intense. Sorry if it was too fast-paced. _Please_ review! They encourage me. In fact, I won't update until I get at least two reviews! Thank you again. :)**


	4. Rebel II

**I want to remind you that in Narnia, it is currently autumn/fall, as briefly mentioned in the second chapter**

 **Thank you so much for reviewing :) It makes my day every time.**

 **Warning: the chapter is twice as long as a normal chapter and yet it's still very fast-paced. Hopefully that isn't a problem and sorry if it is!**

CHAPTER FOUR

REBEL II

"I'm sooo booored," Edmund groaned, lying upside down on his bed. Susan gave him a skeptical look as she placed the scrolls neatly on his desk. "You're perfectly

fine, Ed! Do stop complaining. You have a whole lot of work to do," she reminded him, indicating the scrolls.

He mumbled unintelligible words. "What's that?" Susan asked, smoothing her long green dress.

"I love my sister," Edmund said sweetly and sarcastically, sitting up straight. Susan eyed the fifteen-year-old boy.

"Remember, Ed, you aren't to leave this room for the next two weeks," she said strictly, walking towards the door. She paused. "There are guards watching you."

She stormed out, the door creaking shut behind her. "' _Remember, Ed, you aren't to leave this room_ ,'" Edmund mimicked in a high-pitched voice, fluttering

his eyelashes, and released an irritated sigh, slouching on his bed. "Stupid Peter. Stupid Susan. Stupid Lucy. They all seem to forget I have my rights.

I'm a king too you know!"

" _Stop whining and do your job_!" Susan yelled from a distance outside his door. "NO!" he hollered back defiantly, scowling at the yellowed parchments

folded on his desk. " _I'll get Peter_!" Susan threatened. That shut the boy up. Usually when Peter got involved, things got ugly. He grumbled inwardly and got to

his feet, shuffling towards his wooden desk soundlessly. He opened the first scroll, scanning the words. Everything looked blurry and unimportant to him.

He signed his name at the bottom of it, not bothering to recall what the matter was even about.

 _Next_ , he thought, opening the second tiredly. This one seemed remarkably short.

As he skimmed the words, he found it very fascinating and restarted it, taking the time to thoroughly read it.

 _"_ I, King Edmund the Just, will not cause any more mischief. I'm a royal pain in the rear and need to learn to act

like my kingly brother, High King Peter the Magnificent, who is of that title for a reason. I will not pull any more 

pranks and I will learn to behave. I most certainly will not run off, fly off, swim off, dance off, jump off,

skip off, or slither off. Signed:," he read aloud.

 _Ha-ha-ha, very funny Peter,_ he thought dryly. Instead of signing his name, he wrote at the bottom ' _screw you'_ and folded it back up with satisfaction.

Peter knew that Edmund usually didn't read half the paper, so he thought he could trick his brother into that. _Lucky I read it,_ Edmund conceived.

The letter sparked an idea, though. Why did Edmund just stay in this room? Sure, there were guards positioned by his door and others patrolling

a few stories down on the ground, but surely there were other ways to escape. Infuriating Peter was Edmund's finest skill, after all.

Then, he had an amazing idea. It may not have been wise, but it was definitely brilliant. He got up and paced towards the door.

He opened it and was instantly halted by the two guards keeping watch. "You are not to go anywhere," they boomed.

"Lucy called up at me that the High King wanted to see me," Edmund folded his arms, telling a very cautious lie. They looked at each other

questioningly. "I think His Majesty would have told us-" one of them began, but Edmund cut them off curtly. "He wants to see me."

Despite his disheveled black hair and the fact that he was still in his royal pajamas, he was still a king, and he was threatening at that. His brooding glare was

infamous. The two guards hesitated. "Go ahead, Your Majesty," they mumbled, bowing. "We must escort you, however."

Edmund cursed to himself, running a hand through his ebony hair. "Of course," he said gaily, grinning through clenched teeth. The smile did not quite reach

his sharp brown eyes, despite all of his practice for uncomfortable situations like these.

They took ahold of his arms. "Watch it!" he barked, pulling away. They looked at him, alarmed. "Sorry," he said in a more even voice.

"I would like for you to remain behind me." They did as told. Edmund remembered the events of last night, when he had snuck away, and how

the guards had roughly handled him after shooting him down. If he had told Peter how they treated him, the older boy would be simply furious

with the guards. Even if Peter was an overbearing oaf sometimes, he could be such a mother hen, especially to Edmund. The thought coaxed

a genuine grin out of the Just King.

As his footsteps echoed through the halls, he grazed his hand over the cold walls, the sunlight pouring through the windows. The curtains almost never

veiled them. Personally, Edmund disliked glass; it reminded him of ice, and ice reminded him of his past. His bedroom window was not made of glass

but was rather a large hole with a low cushioned window-seat, and wooden blinds if he ever wanted to shut it or keep the breeze out.

One time, when the blinds had been up and Lucy was on the window-seat reading a book, he accidentally pushed her too hard and she fell two stories landing on a

bush.

He raced down to see if she was okay, panic consuming him, and she was thankfully fine. He was still screamed at by Susan for the next three hours nonstop.

They reached the throne room, and the eldest guard knocked loudly. "Come in," Peter's voice called from inside.

Edmund's eyes darted around nervously, realizing how strange this would be. They would know he had been lying, or Lucy would get in trouble!

"We were informed you wanted to see King Edmund?" they spoke as they walked in the room, conducting the Just King.

"No," Peter's brow furrowed, locking eyes with his raven-haired brother, who hiccuped and slapped a hand over his mouth. Peter raised an eyebrow.

The guards exchanged a look, shrugged, and left to wait outside by the door. "Explain?" Peter said. It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"I * _hiccup_ * heard you needed me," Edmund said falsely, befuddled by his random case of hiccups. "I see that . . ." Peter started with uncertainty.

Edmund hiccuped again.

"Well, I'm kind of busy right now, and you're supposed to be in your room," he said after a few seconds of confused silence. "You're still in your pajamas,"

he added pointedly. "Wait," Edmund said before the older could dismiss him. Peter exhaled. "Yes, Edmund?"

The younger opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he darted towards the doors, sprinting past the guards. "Edmund!" Peter let out an exasperated

noise, standing up. "Do not worry. We will retrieve him and lead him back to his room, Your Highness. Relax," one of the guards reassured him, before going after

the haywire boy. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting back down. "He's such an idiot sometimes."

* * *

"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME!" Edmund shouted deliriously, skittering down the hall with the guards at his heels. He looked less like a threatening king and more

like an escaped mental patient, and he was still in those tacky pajamas, much to Susan's shock and disapproval. "Edmund! What in the name of Aslan are you doing

outside of your room-?!" began the flustered Queen, attempting to stop him, but ended up being shoved to the ground involuntarily as her little brother barreled past

her. She let out a short gasp of anger, her bright blue eyes wide with rage. Edmund didn't have the time to apologize as he was

scampering towards the exit. The guards chasing him, noticing his escape route, quickly called out, "SHUT THE GATES! DON'T LET HIM GET OUT!"

Okay, Edmund really was beginning to feel like a prisoner efforting at freedom. Much to his fortune, he was thin and wiry and skilled at these

kinds of things. " _BANZAI_!" he yelled, leaping through the air and slipping through the gates before the other guards keeping watch could register

their command to shut them. "No!" they exclaimed, and the midnight-haired, brown-eyed, pale-skinned boy slid to a halt in the wet green grass, the gates

slamming shut behind him, too late.

He caught some of the people around were giving him startled, weird looks, but he just stood to his full height and flashed them a cocky grin.

He power walked through the gardens, feeling very self-accomplished. Everybody had their eyes trained on him for a few seconds but then

returned to their work, deciding that this was normal for the esteemed Just King. He was always one to perform extremely random and ignorant stunts.

 _They'll never catch me now,_ Edmund snickered in his mind.

To the boy's horror, though, the gates reopened, and the two guards came crashing after him. Edmund panicked and dashed off, swift as a

gazelle, towards the wall. He took a great bound and gripped the walls with his knees and hands, pulling himself up with all the strength he could

muster. He scurried up the wall like a squirrel, his callused hands finding the perfect crevasses for holding onto.

He breathed lightly, swinging nimbly onto the roof. The guards shouted up at him and he just smirked and waved down at them in a friendly

manner before turning and going down the stairs, hurrying as quick as possible. Lucy awaited him at the bottom, tapping her foot angrily.

Edmund faltered. "How did you know-?" he began. "Edmund Pevensie, GET BACK TO YOUR ROOM," she demanded, ignoring his question.

He turned, hearing the guards coming up the wall. It would take more time with them; Edmund had experience climbing walls. When Peter

was angry, it was _usually_ either because

1\. Something went wrong

2\. Edmund.

And in those dire times when it was Edmund, let's just say that Peter was a _relentless_ chaser. That's when the Just King learned to climb a proper wall.

They didn't teach that stuff in training! Although they might as well . . . just in case Peter went into rampage mode.

"Lu, right now I kinda can't," he said in a rushed tone, turning back to his sister.

She raised an eyebrow, and he could still hear her foot clicking against the marble floors impatiently.

"Oh, sorry, I'll come back later and ask," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with pure sarcasm. "Hey," Edmund said indignantly. "Sarcasm is my job."

"I KNOW," she said through gritted teeth. "And you're currently supposed to be in your chambers! For the next two weeks! What on earth in your

deranged mind caused you to feel the need to escape ALREADY?!"

He blinked. "I was bored."

Lucy tried to look serious but couldn't help the giggle erupting from her lips. She covered her mouth, her eyes shining. "Edmund, you're crazy."

"Thanks," the Just King said, and bolted past her. "Ah-ah!" Lucy reprimanded, halting him with her hand. "Lucy," he whined, looking back upstairs. "I need to get out

of here!"

"I can help hide you," the younger girl said, her dark hair falling in her face.

"Where?" the king asked desperately, hearing the guards tumble onto the roof. She smiled cunningly, a smile that people who weren't

Edmund rarely saw. "The kitchen, of course!" she said lightly, pulling Edmund after her with a giggle.

The young king did not object because objecting with Lucy meant her handing him over to the guards who were rapidly pursuing him. As long as

Peter didn't find out (which Edmund figured he was bound to anyway.)

The kitchen was large and grandeur, with a large supply of food. The food's aroma made the boy's stomach grumble.

This made him desperately hungry for lunch, seeing the chefs were soon to be preparing it, and it smelled so divine. Looking around he saw

raw vegetables, ripe fruits, and delicious-looking pastries that his mouth watered over.

The Valiant Queen yanked him down the aisle, and underneath one of the counters where there was a glorious display of fresh fish and peppered

onions. There was a cabinet door underneath there, which she opened, and it was empty. She smiled at Edmund, offering him to go inside.

"Wait," Edmund said, ignoring her brilliant plan. "Ed we don't have much time," Lucy said sourly, standing up.

"I know that," Edmund responded, taking a metal pot and filling it to the brim with a jug of cold water. Lucy gave him a curious look.

"What are you doing, Edmund?" she asked inquisitively. He grinned one of those mischievous grins. "You'll see," he stated, and Lucy

saw that look in his eyes. She would have scolded him, knowing what he was going to do, but she instead stood there and watched in fascination.

The prank master could teach her a few things.

"Peter likes soup, am I correct?" Edmund said nonchalantly, gathering a few things. A large, blazing red bottle, a few peppered onions. "Yes,"

Lucy said cautiously, her eyes following his every move. Small potatoes, green parsley.

"I hope they don't mind me helping a bit," her brother smirked, pulling out a wooden spoon. Lucy raised an eyebrow but made no move to stop him.

Oh, if Peter found out she had been helping him, he would be furious with the both of them! The thought made her cringe.

Her brother plopped in the unpeeled potatoes and onions. "Edmund, hurry," Lucy finally said, stirring from her thoughts when she thought

she heard the guards. "We don't have much time." Her eyes looked around fervently, and she saw a luscious chocolate cake on display.

"I'm almost done," Edmund said, stirring the 'soup.' He took the little red bottle and shook it. Lucy attempted to read the label but decided

there was no need. It was most obviously hot sauce.

He unscrewed the lid, much to her surprise. Her eyes widened in astonishment as he promptly poured the hot sauce's entire contents in the bowl;

a pintsworth. She gawked at him as he stirred, an impish grin on his face. "They'll notice," she finally said, smelling the spicy scent and pinching her nose

as she watched the water turn a very ugly shade of red. He shrugged, gently placing a parsley in the middle. He put the lid on the pot.

"Don't they have taste testers?!" Lucy chided at him. "Hmm. I didn't think of that." He stood there for a moment.

Slowly, that evil grin crept across his face, and he looked at Lucy. "What? What is it?" she demanded. "Stop giving me that look!"

"Please help me," he begged, his brown eyes big and pleading.

"What do you want?" Lucy sighed.

"What if you . . . told them you made the soup," Edmund said slowly.

Lucy's eyes widened. "WHAT?! And risk MY reputation?! DO IT YOURSELF, AT LEAST EVERYBODY HATES _YOU!_ "

She took a deep breath. "Sorry, that was totally uncalled for," she said softly. "I'll do it. On one condition."

He raised his eyebrows. "If I get caught, you're taking the blame, and you have to go to two tea parties with me," Lucy finished.

"TWO? Ugh. Fine," Edmund gave in.

He climbed into the cabinet and shut the little door. It was a tight fit, but it was big enough. Light streamed through the cracks and Edmund tried to get a peek out of

them. Lucy left, taking the pot with her, as to re-enter in a few moments.

He waited for a while when chefs burst into the room, getting to work almost immediately. Soon the room was filled with the clanking of spoons, sizzling, and

the rich aroma of spices as the chefs began making the grand meal.

Edmund twitched with anticipation, ignoring the delicious smells.

The doors opened loudly, and all of the servants looked up from their duty at the High King who was standing there. Edmund's eyes widened as everything

went silent, the merry sounds of the kitchen vanishing into quiet, all except for the fading sizzle of cooked meat. _That's not Lucy,_ he thought.

"Have you seen King Edmund?" Peter smiled. Edmund knew his brother's smiles, unlike most people. Peter was obviously putting on a friendly facade

when Edmund could clearly see that he was actually deathly furious. _He found out I escaped, didn't he?_ Edmund thought.

"No, Your Highness," one of the chefs bowed, who the Just King recognized as the head chef, Rie.

"That's unfortunate," Peter sighed his voice hardening. "I would rather like to see him."

"Is he not in his chambers, Your Highness?" a mousy woman with two golden braids piped up. "I was informed that they shot him down and you banished him to his

room."

Peter looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean by shot him down?"

The mousy woman blushed and Edmund slowly closed his eyes, sighing. If they could finish up this conversation, a lot of things would be avoided.

 _Lucy, where are you? Now would be a good time to come in and offer the soup._

"I thought . . . I thought you ordered them to-?" the woman stuttered. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend Your Highness-"

"Ordered them to what?" Peter demanded, his voice dangerously low.

"To shoot him down! From the sky! With arrows!" the woman exclaimed, confused. Peter stiffened. "Was he injured?"

The cooks all exchanged looks. "No," the mousy woman said.

Peter seemed to relax a bit, relief evident on his face before he quickly concealed it. "Please tell me if you find him." He was gone.

Before all of the disturbed chefs could return to their duty, a voice rang out, "Rie!" Lucy came into the room, her hair a mess and breathing hard, as if she had

just ran down a long flight of steps.

 _Ah, so that was her plan. Smart,_ Edmund praised in his mind. _When there was a distraction occupying them._

"I made this stew," she said proudly, setting it on the counter. Of course, all of the chefs trusted sweet innocent Lucy, so they wouldn't

question her for one second. "Ooh! Your Majesty! What kind?" asked Rie, bending down to look her in the eyes. She smiled brightly,

a smile that gave her dimples and could light up an entire room. "I made it spicy," she said, sounding simply adorable.

"May I try it, Queen Lucy?" Rie humored her. "No! It's a surprise taste," she said simply. "I made it for the High King. It's his favorite soup."

The cooks exchanged a look; they had never heard of this _favorite_ soup, but as I said before, most beings trusted dear young Lucy

a great deal, much more than anyone in the entire kingdom could trust Edmund (except for his family). The thought made the boy jealous, but he quickly erased

it from his mind. _There's no need to envy._

"Okay then, my queen," Rie said hesitantly. Lucy beamed at him and scurried out of the room.

Edmund sighed and slumped back against the wood. He could take a nap in here. It was much better than writing scrolls, at least.

* * *

The Just King awoke in a cramped position to the sound of voices. He opened his bleary eyes and yawned, stretching, when his hand smacked into the top

of the cabinet and he recoiled quickly, not daring to hiss in pain as he remembered what he was doing in here and what his mission had been.

The voices were coming from the Dining Hall, and he presumed that the feast was started. He peeked through the cracks to make

sure that nobody was in here and crept silently out the door, careful not to let the hinges creak. The kitchen floor was cool against his feet.

He sneaked over and opened the door that led into the Dining Room just a bit, so he could peer at his siblings and the other attendants.

He looked around to find Lucy, who was carefully eating a scone. She caught his gaze (girls seemed to have the uncanny ability to suspect when someone was

looking at them; it was queer to Edmund how they did it.)

She smirked and nodded in Peter's direction. _The soup,_ she mouthed. Edmund looked at Peter, slinking back a little just in case Peter

really _was_ a girl and had that uncanny superpower to sense people too.

Lucy was right; the Just King had woken up just in time to watch his practical joke unveil. A humble servant poured that disgusting,

heavily spiced brew into a small china bowl, and it was so strong that the instant Edmund took a whiff from fifteen feet away

he nearly gagged. The chefs must have warmed it up so that it would taste better, but Edmund doubted it would taste that great.

Peter smelled the broth. He looked bewildered but masked a reaction, thanking the servant gracefully and asking in a tone

as to not give away that the soup smelled like flaming horse crap, "I do say, what is this fine soup?"

"Queen Lucy - ahem, somebody wanted it to be a pleasant surprise," the servant smiled, curtsying and walking away.

 _C'mon Pete . . . just try it . . . I know you're curious . . ._ Edmund urged in his thoughts. _It oughta be your favorite._

Peter seemed to be avoiding the soup, smiling rather falsely and even having the manners to cover it with a cloth. _How rude! I worked hard on_

 _that soup!_ Edmund thought angrily. He knew Lucy must be thinking the same thing because she shot him an agitated, desperate look.

 _Ask him about it,_ Edmund mouthed to his sister, who sighed but complied. "High King Peter, have you tried the stew? I heard it's

excellent," she said aloud. The table went silent. "Why yes, it's scrumptious," Peter said smoothly, ignoring the blatant stares of the guests.

"Really? I haven't seen you take a bite," Lucy said, looking at her plate calmly while twirling her hair around her finger. She looked

up at him, her eyes big and mocking. Peter looked like he was going to pop.

Edmund praised Lucy in his mind; usually only Edmund himself could achieve this level of annoyance from their uptight brother within ten seconds.

Susan cleared her throat. "I'm sure it's lovely. Would you let me try some?" she asked, trying to break the tension.

Uh oh. This wasn't according to plan. Lucy shot her raven-haired brother a panicked look, but he merely shrugged.

Luckily, Peter refused to be embarrassed as such in front of all the other people. "I'll try it, just to make sure it is good," he said

a bit too rushed, and took his spoon, his hand trembling above the stew. _He can face bloody battles and depressing deaths, but he can't_

 _face soup from hell. Ah yes, I see why they call him High King,_ Edmund thought flatly.

Peter finally took a sip, everyone's eyes trained on him. For they could all smell how terrible the bowl reeked.

As soon as he swallowed he gagged, unsteadily placing the soup on his plate and coughing. "It tastes like burning garbage,"

he wheezed, trying to take a long gulp of water and ending up spilling it all over himself. When he tried to stand up he accidentally

bumped his soup bowl and it spilled upside down all over him too. He leaped to his feet. The poor king was trying so hard to keep his composure,

but his tongue felt like it was on fire and he needed water. He clumsily reached for the water jar, his mouth burning so much

it brought the sting of a tear to his eye, and he promptly knocked it over, and that tumbled off the table and shattered on the ground. He swore

under his breath, (which Edmund thought he heard 'I'm going to kill Ed'). "Can I get some water?!" he called, and a servant or two rushed into the room,

taking in the scene with perplexed looks. "I said water," Peter griped. They blinked. "Oh! Your Majesty!" they blushed and hurried out, fetching

another pitcher of water. Peter turned to sit back down but slipped in the puddle of water and broken glass, instinctively reaching out for something to hold onto.

He grabbed the white, gold-linen table cloth and yanked it down misfortunately, and several plates clattered to the floor along with a series of food. An entire loaf of

bread landed directly on his head as he braced himself for the ground.

Susan covered her eyes and Lucy held her breath, trying desperately hard not to erupt into giggles. All of the guests

sat there in dumbfounded shock at what they were witnessing.

 _This is glorious,_ Edmund thought, grinning from ear to ear. He was going to have leverage for the next few years.

The servants returned and gasped at the sight of their High King on the ground, food splattered around him. "I'm fine," he said snippily, climbing into

his chair. Susan peeked from under her fingers and Lucy looked red, like if she didn't laugh she'd explode into a thousand pieces.

All of the guests were very repulsed.

Peter took the water greedily, gulping the entire pitcher down. He exhaled in relief. "Thank you," he sighed, handing the pitcher back to the bemused servant.

All the guests continued to be repulsed.

Peter drummed his fingers against the table. "What?" he said as everyone stared at him like he was insane, and Lucy was so red Susan feared her sister

really was going to pass out. Edmund began laughing, he couldn't help it. The situation was just too hilarious.

Two of his siblings glared at him while Lucy fainted against the table.

"EDMUND I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" Peter shouted as his brother cracked up.


	5. Soap Suds

**To: Aslan's Butterfly - Thanks! :) I hope to make people laugh and maybe bring a smile to their face. Edmund**

 **being a the troublemaker that he is always gives me new ideas.**

 **To: 1bluesapphire - Haha! Good to know! XD**

 **To: Narniaheartedgir - Aww thanks! Yes, Edmund's very devious in this story.**

 **To: Guest - Yay! It makes me happy to see that people actually liked it. Regardless I would have continued the story;**

 **I was actually expecting a lot of criticism, but you are all very kind :)**

 **Okay, back to the story now**

CHAPTER FIVE

SOAP SUDS

Peter was too mad to do anything. For the entire morning, every time Edmund said something cheeky Peter simply ignored him with a glowering look.

He was mortified. How could his brother embarrass him like that? Edmund was supposed to be in his room and he snuck out, lied, and then

hot-sauced the High King's soup.

 _I wish he would stop playing pranks and sneaking off. It's getting annoying,_ Peter thought, getting to his feet from the table.

He had requested a breakfast with only the Pevensie children, and no other guests. It would take him weeks to live last night down.

"Peter?" Susan asked. "I'm going to my chambers," Peter answered. "Hey, Pete, what's for lunch?" Edmund asked saucily. "I'm rather hungry for sou-"

he didn't finish because Susan threw an orange at him.

"No, no, he's right," Peter said, the first time he even half-acknowledged their brother. Susan's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Edmund, do you want to know what's for lunch?" Peter said, turning to their brother. Edmund looked doubtful. "Yes?"

Peter nodded. "Your next two meals are going to be spent in the dungeons, cleaning out all the cells," he said. The High King

did not have any prisoners, and he often didn't anyways, so Edmund was bound to not get into any trouble down there,

cleaning the cobwebs and dirt. Edmund opened his mouth to object, but Peter raised a hand to silence him. "And you will be

doing that for the next week, ALONG with your ORIGINAL penalty of staying in your chambers otherwise. The only other time you

are allowed out is for breakfast. That is final." Peter turned to walk out the door. "Your punishments never work! YOU CAN'T CONTAIN ME!" Edmund called after him.

 _Dang, I thought I was going to get away with making fun,_ he thought grumpily when Peter disappeared through the door.

Lucy shrugged like this was normal (it happened every other week) and continued nibbling her blueberry scone happily. Last night was kind of fuzzy for her.

All she remembered was helping Edmund, Peter doing something stupid, and her holding in her breath so long she fainted.

After that, she woke up and she was in her room, being looked over by a nurse, who ran and told her siblings she was awake.

Then, Lucy began to laugh deliriously, not very conscious of WHY exactly she was laughing, but it had something to do with Peter or

Edmund. And then she went to sleep and came here in the morning.

Memories flooded through her mind now that she thought about it.

Edmund had been cracking up at the door, and Peter was an outraged mess.

She half-remembered him yelling.

Lucy kind of expected Edmund not to show up and for Peter to tell them that Edmund was dead, but the Just King was actually the

first one in the Dining Hall, grinning like a Cheshire Cat and tapping his fingers against the table. Two guards were lying in front of the

door, probably knocked out, and Lucy didn't even want to know.

* * *

"Dungeons are ugly," Edmund said. "Isn't cleaning the servants' job?"

The five guardians watching him sighed collectively in annoyance. "For the seventy-third time, King Edmund,

High King Peter requested you work down here," one of them said.

"I know, but it's boring," Edmund whined. "This stinks. I don't want to stay in my room and work in a dungeon for seven whole days!"

"I apologize, but High King Peter-"

"Yeah yeah," Edmund huffed. "I remember." He seemed thoughtful for a moment, pausing his sweeping. "You know . . ." he said mysteriously.

One of the guardians raised an eyebrow. "What if we overthrew Peter? And forced HIM to work in the dungeons?" Edmund said.

All of the guardians groaned. "Why did the High King assign _us_ to do this job? His brother is unbearable," one of them hissed.

"It's not my fault I'm so darn lovable. You should be honored," Edmund accused. His plan was actually to annoy the guards to the point

where they ran out of the room screaming, so that Edmund could set up a trap for the next person that came down here.

When would Peter learn? Punishments only made Edmund work harder . . . at _causing trouble._

"It was just a harmless prank anyways, I don't know why he freaked out," Edmund continued, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, Your Highness. 'Harmless' pranks never hurt anyone's overall reputation as a highly thought of king," one of the guards scoffed sarcastically.

"Exactly! So you agree?" Edmund asked. The guard snorted. "You should continue your sweeping King Edmund so that you may go

to your room and we don't have to hear you talk."

"That's rude," Edmund complained. "I've been told by many people they LOVE hearing me talk!"

"Who?" one of the other guards wrinkled his nose.

"That guy in the mirror," Edmund said plainly, twiddling his thumbs with a serious look in his eyes. "With the handsome face

and black hair. The one that's a lot better-looking than High King Peter. I dare say he's the most dashing boy I've ever laid my eyes on -

and he told me that I speak like an angel."

"The guy in the mirror," one of the guard's left eye twitched. Edmund nodded, trying to maintain the laughter threatening to burst.

"He really is a lot better looking than Peter. In fact, Peter is inferior to this guy."

The men all exchanged a look. "Do not insult High King Peter."

"But it's okay to insult Low King Edmund."

"PLEASE STOP TALKING," they groaned. Edmund smirked innocently, picking up the broom.

"The ground is really clean, though! Have you noticed that? The only thing there is down here is dust. Everywhere. It's

really annoying. What if the dust suffocates me because it's clogging the air?"

"Nobody would complain, Your Highness."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, Your Highness."

"You know, I can still fire you. I may not be the High King but I'm still a ruler of Narnia," Edmund said casually. "Please, we'll do anything, just be

quiet!" one of them snapped. "Did you not just hear me?" Edmund raised an eyebrow. "I AM A RULER OF NARNIA."

They all avoided his glare, knowing that Edmund was intimidating when you looked into his eyes when he yelled.

"You are the Just King. Would you be as 'just' as to do your job?"

"It would be 'just' if you stopped criticizing me, I'm just commentating. You know, this reminds me of an old nursery tale. Want me to tell it?

There once was a pig and a cow, who lived in a place called Barnia-"

He didn't have time to finish because the guards were turning around and storming up the steps, yelling for King Peter. The door slammed shut behind them.

One stayed behind as if to make sure the Just King didn't go anywhere, but the instant that boy opened his mouth, he changed his mind and hurried after

his buddies.

Edmund grinned. _Perfect._ He didn't run up the stone steps to check if the doors were locked because they automatically locked unless you had a key.

He dropped the broom and it clattered to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust which he choked on.

He didn't have much time before Peter came down and yelled at him, so he looked around quickly, searching for something.

Cleaning supplies were the only tools available, so he took some duct tape and the broom, scurried up the steps, and taped the broom in front of the door

as a barricade.

Then he hurried back down and grabbed a bucket of water and blue soap, using the soap and rubbing it all over the stairs, and splashing

the water on the stairs to make it extra slippery.

He then cackled maniacally at his work and pulled the cart into the corner, hiding behind it.

Soon after he heard someone clicking the key into the door, and attempting to open it. They began to pound. "Edmund

open the door!" It was Peter's voice, agitated as usual. Edmund was silent, but he was still beaming evilly.

He heard the broom splintering as Peter pounded on the door some more, and the broom broke in half, the door slamming open. "Ed

what were you thinking-" the older boy didn't finish as he slipped on the steps and crashed to the ground, sliding down the stairs with a

 _thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk._

Edmund's mischievous grin widened as Peter sprawled in a very unkingly position on the ground.

Peter retaliated quickly, springing to his feet and looking around with fury in his eyes. "Edmund you complete idiot, you could at least

take the time to put a 'Caution Wet Floor' sign!"

Edmund didn't answer but he really wanted to, and he covered his mouth to stifle the snickering. He thought Peter would get mad, but instead, much

to the younger boy's surprise, Peter only smirked. "Playing hide and seek, are we, Eddybear?"

He knew Edmund hated that nickname!

The High King adjusted his golden crown and turned in a circle. "I know you're down here . . ." he eyed the cart

suspiciously, and an evil grin that could possibly rival Edmund's took place on his face.

The younger held his breath. It was an obvious place to hide, but where else was he supposed to go? In a cell?

No, that wouldn't work, because Peter would just come down here and shut the cell door, and voila, Edmund would be spending

the day behind bars. Fun.

Hey, why was it always the High King who caught him doing these things? For once he wanted to cause a little trouble and NOT get caught.

"Eddybear," Peter grinned, walking very slowly towards the cart. Edmund made no noise; he was livid, though, wanting to

smack all three of his siblings for taunting him with that stupid sobriquet. He had a lot of mean nicknames

back in Finchley from his peers, but Eddybear definitely wasn't one of them. Lucy sure ' _valiantly'_ lied about that!

Peter the Magnificent stopped directly in front of the cart, thinking about what to do with Edmund. He sent the guards screaming and watered and soaped

the stairs, all within ten minutes! "You know, you're lucky I don't have a concussion," he said bluntly

"Not really," Edmund's muffled voice said in vexation. "Otherwise you'd be in a nurse's office and not here."

Peter grinned and chose to ignore that. "Poor Eddybear," he teased, shoving the cart out of the way. "So you finally speak?"

"No."

"But you just did!"

"No I didn't."

". . ."

"Exactly."

". . . Edmund, the nurses must be forgetting to give you that prescription."

"I DON'T NEED IT!" Edmund hollered, winning a pleased smirk from his brother. "Edmund I really could have been injured,"

Peter said, turning serious and kneeling down. "Can't you just do as you're told?"

"Don't bring that up again, that argument was five years ago," Edmund replied bitterly. "I know," Peter sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.

"I'm just worried you're going to do something stupid and get yourself killed."

"Funny, I'm worried I'll do something stupid and get killed too," Edmund replied sarcastically, glaring pointedly as if saying Peter was the murderer.

Peter laughed. "You know, I wouldn't GET mad if you stopped DOING stupid things."

Edmund broke into a grin despite himself. "I would stop doing those stupid things if you stopped getting mad."

"No you wouldn't."

"Yeah, you're right, but you getting mad makes it pretty entertaining."

Peter shook his head, still smiling, and offered a hand to help Edmund up. ''You're insane, brother, but that's why we love you.''

''Does that mean I don't have to keep cleaning?" Edmund asked hopefully. Peter thought about it. "No, I'm still kind of mad about last night.

However, you should be getting a taste of your own medicine soon."

"Taste of my own medicine? What does that mean? . . oh . . . Peter, you wouldn't DARE prank me," Edmund wrinkled his nose.

"I would watch your back, Ed," Peter sang, starting to go upstairs. He forgot that the stairs were still soapy and wet and face-planted to the ground.

Edmund grinned. "I would watch your face."

"Shut up."

 **Okay, I wanted to end it on a good note, because it feels like lately Peter's been yelling at Edmund a lot, and I just wanted**

 **to let you guys know that they're still brothers :) please review if you have the time! (The next chapter should**

 **be filled with a lot more action. Should the sisters get involved in this payback?)**


	6. Payback

**Here we go! I think you guys will really like this one . . . it's pretty dramatic, though. I wish I could have more than two categories because I would**

 **have definitely added Drama to it. This has to be the most serious one yet.**

CHAPTER SIX

PAYBACK

Three of the Pevensies were in the Throne Room, scribbling down their names on small pieces of torn parchment. They each

put their names in the little black hat, and the oldest shook it and reached inside, drawing a name.

"And the Nominated One is . . . Susan," Peter read aloud. "What?! There's no way! I'll never be able to pull it off!" Susan whisper/shouted.

Peter and Lucy smirked at her. "We all promised," Lucy said, grinning. "You have to do it."

Susan sighed and shook her head. "Fine. But if he catches me, it's entirely your fault. I'm so . . ." she reddened in embarrassment.

"I'm clumsy!"

Peter and Lucy howled with laughter on the floor, and Susan glowered at them. "Can you say it again?

I want it recorded," Lucy said, giggling. "Oh, shi - shush!" Susan nearly cursed but reminded herself that would be a horrible example for

young Lucy, and it was very improper. Every time she heard a curse word, either from Edmund stubbing his toe or

Peter losing a fencing fight, she would smack them on the head. If it was anyone else she would just glare at them until they noticed her gaze and

apologized.

"Didn't he prank you last, anyways?" she turned to Peter. He shrugged. "He's got me three times. But he got you once," the blond reminded

his sister. "I must be his favorite," the youngest beamed, "Since he hasn't played a single joke on me."

Peter and Susan exchanged a look. "Then you're his least favorite," Susan said to Peter, who rolled his eyes.

"And if Lucy's his favorite, maybe she should do it. Nobody's mean enough to harm little Lucy, not even him," Susan continued.

"Susan, you promised you'd do it if your name was drawn. We all solemnly oathed."

"Well, I didn't think-!"

"We don't bother what you think, Su! Just do it!" Peter exclaimed. She sighed. "I will." "Good," Peter nodded firmly. Edmund burst into the room

at that moment, startling his siblings. "What?" he asked, puzzled at their expressions. "What?"

"Nothing," Peter lied. Lucy nodded fervently, hiding the hat behind her back.

"I just came to see what you were doing . . ." Edmund looked weirded out. "Were you talking about me or something?"

"What is there to talk about?" Susan snorted. Peter grinned.

Edmund shot her a look and left, rolling his eyes. "That was close," Lucy exhaled. "Let's get out of here."

"Remember, Susan-" Peter began.

"I KNOW," she scowled. "You don't have to remind me a thousand times. A lady keeps her word."

* * *

The hallway was dark, and quiet, with a few guards strolling the hall on night watch. Occasionally Susan Pevensie thought she might run into one,

but she was the Gentle Queen and nobody would dare question her motives. However, she did her best to avoid them anyways;

the only thing she clutched was a tacky brown bag, (and it was human-sized), and a red cloth. That would look rather strange, their queen, lurking

in the shadows with a bag and a cloth at night.

She found her way around the corner, the other side of the Royalty Hall. (The Royalty Hall was where the Pevensie children had their

rooms.) Edmund and Peter's rooms were right next to each other, conveniently, so in case Susan needed help restraining Edmund . . .

hopefully, it didn't come to that. _A harmless prank_ , she reminded herself feverishly. _Payback. That's all it is._

She stopped in front of Edmund's door and looked around, lowering her head and making sure no guards were nearby. She lifted her

hand as to knock politely, but then she remembered that she was on a mission and instead twisted the golden doorknob

silently. The door creaked and she hissed under her breath, but she heard Edmund's light snoring and slowly crept

across the floorboards. His window was open, the curtains fluttering, a cool breeze floating into his room, and the boy was noticeably shivering under his bedcovers.

"Oh, Edmund," she sighed softly, and being the motherly person she was, she moved across the room and closed the wooden shutters for him.

She turned back to her little fifteen-year-old goofball, who was still shivering but less now. She smiled, getting beside his bed

on her knees and brushing the black hair out of his face affectionately. Then once again she alertly recalled

her purpose and guiltily got to her feet. "I'm dreadfully sorry, brother," she whispered, taking the cloth and wrapping his mouth with it.

She flinched, expecting him to wake as she tied the knot, but he was sound asleep. This distressed her; he usually

slept like this when he was having a nightmare. Although he thrashed when he had nightmares, so maybe he was having

a good dream. It confused her, but she shook the thought of her mind. _You promised to do this, Susan. You promised to do it._

She felt a sudden rush of giddiness, and a little maniacal giggle burst from her lips and she covered her mouth fearfully. _Oh dear, I've turned into Lucy!_

 _Maybe it's just it feels so good to get him back. Even though technically I already did . . ._ she faintly remembered

having Edmund clean up all the shattered glass after the ladies dropped their teacups, when he pulled that slime prank on her.

It was unfair, now that she thought about it, how she let Peter go, but made Edmund suffer for it. She frowned.

 _This is the wrong thing to do._

 _But he got into so much trouble,_ the other side of her argued. _He flew off on a griffon and he embarrassed Peter in front of the guests, then_

 _teased him mercilessly. Oh well. . . get it done with._

Slowly, she lifted her raven-haired brother from under his blankets. She winced, as he began to sway on contact with the cold

air, but he remained asleep, muttering a word through the gag that sounded a lot like the curse word Susan nearly uttered this morning in front of

Lucy. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh giddily like before.

She lowered her brother into the brown sack and then sealed it with a quick knot. She tried to carry him, but he was heavy

for a slender boy and she ended up placing him down before she dropped him.

She could really use Peter's strength right now. Or maybe Lucy to help. There was no way Susan would be able to carry

Edmund all the way to the carriage on her own without getting caught.

 _I should drag him,_ she thought, knitting her eyebrows. She didn't want to disturb anyone's sleep so they

could help her carry her brother. It was her job.

Sighing, she heaved him out the door, dragging him. He was still asleep, much to her relief, but she hoped that the ground

wouldn't give him burns or she would have a lot of explaining to do. Their plan was to play a joke but not to harm him in any way.

Maybe his sanity, sure, but not him in general.

She dragged him, gritting her teeth, towards the stairs. She breathed heavily, looking down. How on earth . . . ? She wished

that her siblings would have been more sensible in coming up with a plan. Was she supposed to carry him down the

steps? She wasn't nearly that strong. She exhaled, looking down at her feet. This better not be a failed plan. Susan Pevensie was _not_ a failure.

"Need some help?" a little voice said. Susan jumped in surprise, turning to a figure. Her little sister stepped out of the shadows,

in her fuzzy pink pajamas. Susan's lips pulled into a tight smile. "Lucy, you should be asleep. This is my job."

"Peter said I could help," Lucy said sweetly. "If you needed it."

Susan sighed, giving in. "Okay. But you still have to be at breakfast at the right time. Oh dear, I can't wait to see how

Edmund reacts to this," she let that unnaturally devious giggle emit. "Lucy I'm going insane."

The littler girl smiled, tilting her head. She and Susan both picked up either end of the bag and carried it down the steps slowly.

"Oh, this is like a teambuilding activity! Except . . . we're carrying a body . . ." Lucy frowned. Susan nearly laughed. _Gosh, what's happening to me?  
_

 _Why is this so funny?_ she thought, shaking her head. Moonlight spilled from the high window, providing them light to see.

When they reached the flat ground, they continued to carry him. There were guards positioned by the main gates, but the Pevensies knew

a secret passageway that led into the woods. They went that way, moving quickly, down the tunnel and out into the open,

where Philip and the carriage awaited. Lucy dropped Edmund in the cool grass and leaped into the carriage with a single bound, then helped heave

Edmund onto the seat. Susan climbed in last and closed the little door. "Thank you again, Philip," Susan said courteously. The horse nodded.

"I'm glad to help, Your Majesties. The boy needs to learn his lesson."

The girls exchanged a knowing grin. Philip took off into a trot, disappearing into the multi-colored trees. The forest

was spooky this time of night, and it was very cold and misty. The girls still had a sense of security, though, as they knew this place

and Philip was guiding them. Susan tsked. "Lucy, you're still in that insensible fuzzy one-piece."

"I like it," Lucy said defensively. "It keeps me warm at night. Unlike your silk nightgowns."

They rode in silence for a little, until the girls started chatting about girl stuff. "Meet any new suitors?" Lucy asked.

"Yes, but they're all so bland," Susan mourned. "I wish I could find somebody that was nice and one that Peter and Edmund

would approve of. It seems like every suitor I have they simply hate."

"Susan, they won't like _any_ of them. It's just how brothers are," Lucy said matter-of-factly. Susan laughed merrily.

"What about you, Lu?"

"I'm thirteen. It's different," the younger replied, dimpling. "Crushes are stupid."

"I do hope you always think that," Susan said. "Why?" Lucy furrowed her brow. "Because, silly. If you start dating,

our poor brothers would think the world was ending," Susan smirked. "Sweet innocent Lucy, all grown up."

Lucy pouted. "What if I _want_ to grow up?"

"I hope you never do," Susan said gently, the wind blowing her long brown hair back.

"Me too," Lucy said with finality. "Adults are weird."

As soon as she said that, a little moan came from the bag. The two girls started and looked at it. "Is he awake?" Lucy whispered,

nearly prodding him with her finger. "Lu, don't touch him," Susan murmured, yanking back her sister's hand. "We don't want him awake

yet."

"But he just-"

"I know, but better safe than sorry," Susan said rushedly. "Is everything alright, ladies?" Philip asked. "We're going to be passing a swamp shortly."

"Everything is quite alright, Philip," Susan said, reaching out and patting the horse fondly. "How much longer will this ride take?"

"Only ten minutes after we pass the swamp, milady," Philip replied hastily, his hooves clomping on the dirt and the wheels squeaking. "Boy, he's

in for a surprise," Lucy giggled, implying Edmund. Susan sighed, twiddling her fingers in a nervous manner. "I don't want him to be scared."

"He won't be," Lucy promised. "Well - maybe a little - but that's the point, isn't it? It's revenge."

The Gentle Queen didn't know if it was revenge or just plain cruelty. She couldn't decide. But if precious Lucy thought it was okay, that meant

it was probably fine. "He's done nothing to you," she finally declared half-heartedly, but the sounds of frogs drowned out her words.

Lucy looked in pure awe at the muddy swamp bubbling now at their side. She scrambled up to see it, but her older sister forcefully

pulled her down, scolding her not to get up there as she might fall. "Lucy, don't get up there!"

"I want to see the frogs!"

"You can't! It's too dark!"

"But _Susan_ -" before the little girl could continue complaining, another groan came from the bag, and the girls' breath

caught as they saw him shuffling. He stopped and said something through the gag that sounded slightly bothered.

The queens' eyes went wide. "He's awake," Lucy whispered. "I know," Susan whispered back.

"Wafs gloien o-wn?" Edmund repeated, and the queens mentally translated it to ' _What's Going On?'_.

He began moving even more, pushing the bag and kicking. "Do something," Susan spluttered. "He might fall out!"

Lucy sat on top of the struggling bag.

Edmund began to panic.

This wasn't going according to plan.

Philip heard the commotion and tried going at a faster pace, trying to get past the swamp. This was a dangerous time for

King Edmund to wake up. Lucy glued herself to Edmund, but he was stronger than her and thrashed wildly, kicking her into Susan. "Lucy!"

Susan exclaimed, and Edmund didn't hear her shout. He was focused on getting out of here.

He began rolling over. Susan attempted to stop him as he rolled, yelling for Philip

to stop, but they were going at high speed now and the wind was loud. The carriage doors flew open, the wind sending her hair into disarray.

"EDMUND STOP! IT'S A JOKE! _STOP_!" she called frantically, reaching out to grab the bag. She clutched the air and came back empty handed.

Edmund was dangerously close to the edge now. She had her hands full trying to keep the winded Lucy upright. "PHILIP!" she begged.

Susan screamed as her brother fell out. Philip kept sprinting until Susan's loud shrieks pierced through the night and he stopped abruptly,

sending the Gentle Queen's hair forward and flowing messily to her back.

"Your Highness! Are you injured?!" he asked desperately. "No!" Susan screamed, going pale. "Ed fell out of the carriage!"

They retraced their steps, searching for the Just King, but alas, they could not find him. Susan gripped the carriage sides, her chest

heaving with anxiety. She would not resort to panic, though, she was determined. He had to be around. She knew he was.

But after ten minutes, they all knew what had to be done.

* * *

The girls stepped into the moonlight shining on their brother's door. Lucy knocked, stress clearly written across her face,

making Susan concerned. She didn't want her little sister to be so pressured. "You may enter," Peter chirped from inside,

sounding not the least bit groggy. Susan pushed the door and it slid open easily. The room was bright,

lit up by warm lavender-scented candles. A pile of paperwork laid on Peter's chiseled desk and his pure glass window was every so slightly

open, letting in a cool breeze. Susan stiffened as she looked at her older brother, curling her toes into the soft white rug.

"Did you do it?!" Peter jumped from his bed excitedly, like a child on Christmas day. "Have you been waiting here the whole time?" Susan accused crossly.

She looked uncomfortable as Peter grinned, unknowing of the events that had recently passed. "How did he react?"

The girls exchanged a look. ". . . He reacted . . . funny."

"I do say, where is he?" Peter asked. "I would like to see him."

The girls exchanged another look, puzzling their elder brother. "Is he in his room?" he asked.

Neither girl knew exactly how to tell Peter what had happened. _How does one tell somebody their brother has fallen out of a carriage?_ Lucy wondered.

"You see," Susan started hesitantly.

Lucy fidgeted. "Well . . . we kinda . . . "

"Yes?" Peter urged, his patience draining. "Spit it out, Lu." Did he not see the girls' hesitancy?

"We . . . well . . ." Lucy flinched under her brother's gaze.

"We kind of lost him."

"You did WHAT?" Peter shouted. Lucy jumped and hid behind Susan, who shrugged, smiling nervously and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Peter groaned and sat on his fluffy bed. "Are you serious, or did he pay you to get me back?"

"It was an accident," Susan said, guiding Lucy out from behind her. "We didn't mean to."

"Really?" he said. Susan nodded honestly, rubbing Lucy's shoulders. Peter studied her face and sighed. She was telling the truth.

"Now we have to find him," he said bitterly, clearly annoyed. Susan nodded again, her sister still trembling in fright at Peter's outburst.

"You left him completely vulnerable. What if he gets killed?"

"I . . ." Susan faltered, biting her lip. "We're sorry!" Lucy cried. "We really truly didn't mean to! It just kind of _happened._ " She started to sniffle.

"Lu, it's okay," Peter smiled at her gently. "Let's just hope we can find him. Where did you leave him?" The girls exchanged a look,

not really wanting to tell. "We were - we were passing a swamp," Susan started slowly. "That's when he woke up. Then he started thrashing,

and Lu had to sit on him. But he was too strong and he pushed her off, then he rolled, and fell out the door . . ."

" _INTO THE SWAMP!?_ " Peter roared, frightening poor Lucy back to tears. Susan gave Peter a menacing look as Lucy trembled in her arms.

"No!" she snapped. "But near it. It might be dangerous if he tried to get out of the bag and accidentally rolled into the bank. It's

unlikely, though, because he is intelligent - most of the time. Need you yell?" she hissed. Peter was tense.

"He's alone out there, Su. We need to send a search party. IMMEDIATELY!"

"Apologize to Lucy!"

"What?"

"APOLOGIZE TO LUCY!"

Peter sighed. "I'm sorry, Lucy," he said genuinely, and then he was off.

* * *

Cold. Edmund was cold. What was going on? He had been being kidnapped! Edmund had been held

hostage a few times, but never had he been thrown in a sack and carried off. How did he get in these situations, anyway?! He went to sleep

in his own bed! Wouldn't the guards be alerted if anyone were to break into his room? Where were his siblings?

Unless . . . no. There was no away. His family wouldn't purposefully put him in any situation that was _dangerous._ Peter and Susan

were huge mother hens. If Edmund showed up one minute late for supper they got worried about him. But Edmund was cold and wet and dirty

and more importantly, he was downright confused.

The ground beneath him was mushy and slick, like mud, and in no way helped him. Tearing at the bag was a painful process, but at least

his kidnappers hadn't tied his hands; otherwise he would have been in big trouble. Slowly but surely he was able to push himself through

and crawling out of the bag like a caterpillar before standing up. He ripped off his gag and threw it to the ground, scanning

his surroundings. He didn't recognize this area. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly and he realized he was in a swamp or a bog.

 _Frogpad Marsh,_ he recognized, relief filling him at the familiarity. Okay, they weren't _terribly_ far from Cair. Easily at least

three miles, though, so it would take a little time getting back. Suddenly an awareness came over him and he swore under his breath.

"I've gotten my nighties all muddy! Su is going to kill me." He started the trek back but then lost his sense of direction.

"Follow the horse tracks," he thought to himself, looking for the trail. He found it after a minute and began to follow the path.

 _Thank Aslan! If I don't get back there by morn Peter's going to fret and send a search party, thinking I've run off again._

 _Would anyone believe me if I told them I got stolen? I don't think so. It would be really illogical to believe me. Even I wouldn't believe_

 _me if I said that. Who were those people, anyways?_ he wondered. _You don't just waltz into a castle and ask to kidnap the king._

 _Unless those guards still hate me._

 _Unless my siblings did this to me._

He nearly dropped in exhaustion. Although he had been sleeping, he felt like he hadn't slept for days out here in the cold. He wanted

to be in his room and light up his fireplace; he was starting to feel unsafe.

He wasn't alarmed when the fiery leaves began to swirl, forming a beautiful dryad before his eyes. _Thank goodness, HELP._

"Hello King Edmund," she said, her voice whimsical and breezy, like leaves. "Hello," Edmund replied. "You appear to be lost,"

the dryad spoke, her orange and yellow leaves rustling. Edmund raised his eyebrows. "Really? DO I? No, I take nightly walks all the time. I also rather

enjoy rolling around in mud."

"Your brother has a search party looking for you," the dryad continued softly, ignoring him.

"Already? Wow, he's good," Edmund commented. The dryad laughed dryly. "Would you like me to send word

that you are here?" she asked him. "Yes please," Edmund said quickly. "And can you tell them I've been kidnapped?"

"As you wish," the dryad said, bowing gracefully, and her leaves scattered, floating away. Encountering a dryad was always very pleasant,

as they were resourceful and helpful beings. They were very loyal and devoted to the High King, as well.

Edmund continued on his journey, feeling better after talking to somebody. Hopefully, the dryad would spread the news quickly.

* * *

 _Earlier_

"How did he get all the way out into the woods, Your Majesty? Has he run off?" Oreius asked Peter as they assembled the search party. Peter didn't reply.

He didn't want to; if he had told them that his was brother was endangered because of a childish prank, what would they think of him?

"ATTENTION!" he called from his throne. All of the guards and townsfolk went silent. "The Just King has vanished into thin air!" he said.

All of the people gasped and began murmuring amongst each other. " _He's probably gone off again. Untrustworthy mutt_ ," one of them,

Peter recognized as Follic the guard, snarled to his neighbor. Peter felt a wave of anger and overprotectiveness, but he did not single the man out, for

he suspected that would be foolish. He instead locked eyes with the man and announced to the crowd, "I know it is not of his own doing. We must

find him, for my sisters say that they saw something going towards a swamp."

"Frogpad Marsh, Your Highness?" a badger tittered. "It is a possibility," answered Peter. "We must find him," he restated.

"In the name of Aslan."

"In the name of Aslan," the crowd repeated. And they were off.

* * *

Edmund shivered and sat down on a rock. He was freezing to death.

Cold made him hallucinate often, especially in winter. Normally he dealt with these things fine, but it was dark, chilly, and he was alone.

 _I hate being alone._

He had been traveling for at least a mile now, but he couldn't possibly go any farther. Where were that dryad and

his brother? _Oh stop being a baby, Edmund,_ he scorned himself _. There's no need to be pathetic._ He sighed and got back to his feet.

He could see his breath in the air as he wrapped his arms around himself and continued following the hoofprints and wheel tracks.

Every time he heard a twig snap he jumped real high in the air and sped up, even if it was only himself stepping on a twig.

His mind was racing. _What if the kidnappers come back? What if they realize I'm gone and turn around?_

He gulped and looked around, fingering his sleeve in a timid habit. _Perhaps my hair will help conceal me,_ he thought plainly.

 _If Peter were out here in this situation, he'd be an easier target, with that flashing blond hair and that 'high and mighty' aura_

 _he gives off when he struts around like a chicken on drugs._

 _Yes, that is rather how he walks, isn't it?_

Edmund smirked.

He kept going until his toes felt wet and frostbitten. He wasn't wearing any shoes, after all. Most people

don't go to bed in their shoes in case they ever get kidnapped.

 _How much longer?_ he griped to himself. _This taking a hundred years._ A mile and a half, probably by now.

He froze when he heard the sound of a wolf howling far in the distance. _Wolves. Oh, dear Aslan, I'm going to die tonight._

He climbed up a tree, deciding it best to spend the night out here. His feet were tired and scratched, and obviously the dryad

wasn't coming anytime soon.

The cold really set in, though, once he stopped moving around, and he wished for a blanket of some kind. A big, furry blanket.

Heck, he wouldn't mind getting a small one. He just needed something to help keep warm.

He curled up on his side on the thick branch and squeezed his eyes shut. _Coward,_ something in his mind rebuked him. _Go home._

 _So what a wolf howled?_

Edmund felt that wave of drowsiness wash over him once more. "Goodnight, brain," he said.

 _Goodnight coward._

And Edmund drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The dryad led Peter through the woods, his search party following closely behind. "He is near," she said in her musical voice, twirling through the air.

"He is asleep in my tree."

 _Asleep? Does that mean he's sleeping? Does it mean he's dead?_

Peter lifted the torch, shining the brazen light upon the many trees surrounding him. The dryad landed carefully on the ground and pointed.

"That one," she said softly, her shadows glowing in the illuminated light. Peter went forwards, looking up the tree

and looking for Edmund. "Where is he," he muttered, setting down the flickering torch. The dryad swirled up the tree,

and came down, carrying a figure. She dropped him gently to the ground, at Peter's feet.

 _Edmund,_ Peter's mind screamed. "Thank you," he said, bowing to the dryad. "Your services will not go unrewarded."

"Thank you as well, Your Majesty, but I am not in need of a reward," she said, and before he could answer, her leaves

scattered into the wind. "Ed?" Peter got down and shook his brother's seemingly lifeless form. "Ed?"

A little moan came from the figure and he sat up, his familiar brown eyes bleary. "Edmund," Peter grinned, hugging his brother.

"Was' goin' on?" Edmund slurred sleepily. "I'll explain later, Edmund. Let's go back to the castle."

* * *

"YOU DID WHAT TO ME?!" Edmund screamed at is sheepish brother and sisters.

 ** _Please_ review! Sorry if that's annoying to ask, but they help so much.**


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